


The real beauty

by Ellessey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10954377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: “You’re going to love this house, Daichi,” Koushi says. He tips his chin up, so the kisses Daichi has begun to press to the crook of his neck can keep traveling upwards. “You’re going to...wonder how you ever doubted me.”“I never doubt you,” Daichi says.“You think our house is ugly.”Daichi’s soft exhalation just under Koushi’s ear sends a perfect shiver down his spine. “Itisugly,” he says. “But I already love it.”--Their first house needs a lot of work, but Koushi loves every moment of turning it into a home with Daichi.





	The real beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gmuhh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmuhh/gifts).



> For Irides, on your birthday. I sat down to write you a little drabble about Daichi washing Suga's hair, and ended up with 5k words of the Most Domestic Fluff (and smut...it just snuck in there). I hope it brings joy to your heart <3

The house, in all honesty, is little more than an eyesore. Shaggy, brown carpet that's at least two decades old, paint colors in deep, saturated shades, none of which complement each other—eggplant in the kitchen, something reminiscent of algae green in the hall. The light fixtures, gold and overly ornate, are paired with brassy hardware on all the doors and cupboards. The peeling wallpaper in the bedrooms is so aggressively unattractive it's almost laughable.

All of this taken into consideration though, Koushi still thinks it's the most beautiful place he's ever seen, and he feels his reasoning for this is legitimate.

Firstly, though this is really of secondary importance, they could afford it. An actual house, on a lovely quiet street, with a mailbox out front and a yard in the back.

Secondly, (but in terms of significance, firstly) it is _theirs._ His and Daichi's. The first place they’ll live together that is not a dorm room or an apartment shared with friends. The place where they will put down roots. Where they'll come home from work, and decorate for Christmas, and hopefully—in a year or so, however long the process takes—where they’ll switch a soft light on at night and tuck their child into bed.

Right now, of course, those idyllic imaginings seem fairly far off, but Koushi is good at visualizing.

Daichi is less so.

They just signed the final papers and received the keys that morning, so the house is all theirs now, to make their own. Koushi has big plans for it. Daichi has wondered aloud, more than once, if maybe they should just set it on fire.

“Stop it,” Koushi says, nudging his husband out of the way with his shoulder so he can step through the back door with a heap of blankets in his arms. “By the end of tomorrow it's gonna look like a different house.”

Tomorrow the old flooring will all be torn out, and replaced with simple tile and cheap (but clean and new) carpet. Tomorrow night they will make use of one of their three pieces of furniture (they have a futon, a table, and a dresser that doubles as a TV stand) and sleep in their bedroom for the first time.

Tonight, though, they are dragging a borrowed air mattress out to the backyard and sleeping under the stars. Koushi could try to pass it off as romance, but it's really just self preservation.

“It doesn't strike you as concerning at all that we can't even sleep inside our house on our first night living in it?” Daichi asks, prodding at the air mattress with his foot before crouching down to climb onto it. “We are living _out_ of it.”

“I'm not sleeping anywhere near that carpet, Daichi,” Koushi says, stretching out beside him. “God only knows what might crawl on us while we slept.”

“Rats,” Daichi suggests.

“Lice,” Koushi says, reaching over to dance his fingers over the top of Daichi’s head.

Daichi pushes his hand away, then takes it in his own and pulls it back to his chest. “And this is the home you want to raise a family in?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at Koushi.

Koushi smiles and rolls onto his side. The air mattress squeaks and wobbles with the movement. “The hazardous carpet will be gone tomorrow,” he says. “But this _yard…”_

The affordability of the house was one big factor in its favor, but the yard went a long way towards redeeming its cosmetic deficiencies. (As did its structural soundness, without which Daichi would never have put an offer on it at all.) It’s the yard that made them both excited, that had them up late at night, painting mental pictures for each other of little bare feet scampering through the grass, and fairy lights strung through the trees encircling it. It’s perfect—sprawling and overgrown and private, and Koushi would probably be happy just living right here. But the house, despite its current unsightliness, is going to be perfect, too.

Daichi rubs his thumb over Koushi’s hand, and he smiles back at him. “This yard?”

“This yard will still be here,” Koushi says.

Daichi nods, eyebrows still raised, like he needs a little more convincing. (He does not. He’s already sketched out plans for the dog house he’ll build in the left back corner.)

“And _you’ll_ be here,” Koushi says, which is reason enough for him to love it.

“Held hostage by the rats.”

“Strung up to the gold chandelier,” Koushi adds, but Daichi shakes his head.

“I took that down while you were cleaning the kitchen. Give me another thirty-six hours, and everything that’s not from this decade will be gone.”

“Except for us,” Koushi says.

“Yes,” Daichi agrees, finding Koushi’s other hand and holding it between their chests, too. The air mattress sags with their bodies so close together, tipping them towards each other.

“Because I’ll be here, too,” Koushi says. Their noses are touching now, so Daichi’s face is mostly a blur, but Koushi can make out a bright smile in the dark, before warm lips are pressed to his.

“Then I guess…” Daichi says, nuzzling Koushi’s cheek with the side of his nose, and then kissing him again, lips brushing over his gently, “...it won’t be so bad.”

Koushi scoffs and nips at Daichi’s jaw. “ _Won’t be so bad.”_

“Pretty good,” Daichi corrects himself, slipping his hand out of Koushi’s so he can squeeze his hip and pull him closer.  

“You’re going to love this house, Daichi,” Koushi says. He tips his chin up, so the kisses Daichi has begun to press to the crook of his neck can keep traveling upwards. “You’re going to...wonder how you ever doubted me.”

“I never doubt you,” Daichi says, fingers dipping under the waistband of Koushi’s sweat pants.

“You think our house is ugly.”

Daichi’s soft exhalation just under Koushi’s ear sends a perfect shiver down his spine. “It _is_ ugly,” he says. “But I already love it.”

Koushi already knows this, and he knows exactly why, but he curls his hand in the front of Daichi’s shirt and says, “Oh really?”

Daichi nods, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow grazing Koushi’s neck. “I’m...legitimately terrified of that carpet.”

Koushi nods knowingly. Anyone in their right mind would be.

“But wherever you are…”

Koushi hums and catches Daichi’s lips again. He knows the end of that sentence without needing to hear it. It’s the reason they chose to attend the same college after high school, and stayed in the same city after that. It’s exactly the same way he feels about Daichi.

He lets Daichi tell him with the comfortable way their lips fit together instead, and with the taste of his mouth, the heat of his tongue sliding next to Koushi’s.  

“Me too,” Koushi whispers, the hushed words falling right against Daichi’s lips, followed by a little gasp as Daichi rolls them over so Koushi is pinned underneath him.

“Koushi…” he murmurs, and then there is a sudden pop. An ominous wheezing sound rises up, quickly transitioning to a loud whoosh as the air escapes the mattress.

Koushi and Daichi stare at each other as they sink closer to the ground. It’s only a matter of seconds before Koushi can feel the uneven surface of the lawn pressing into his back.

“Oh my God,” Koushi says.

Daichi closes his eyes. “That didn’t just happen.”

“You broke our _bed,_ Daichi,” Koushi says. He’s grinning, and the laughter in his voice makes it impossible for him to sound like he’s actually remotely upset.

“I wasn’t even being rough!” Daichi exclaims.

“Well, you can be now, after we move a little. I think there’s...a rock wedged between my vertebrae currently.”

Daichi hurriedly lifts his weight off of Koushi, but it takes him a minute or two to actually move, because he’s laughing too hard now to care about the rock. Daichi starts to laugh too, simply because Koushi is laughing, which is a phenomenon that Koushi has loved since he first discovered it. (This was when they were sixteen, and Koushi inconveniently lost his shit in the middle of history class over an unintentionally sexual looking illustration in their text book. Their teacher had looked to Daichi, who sat next to him, for some kind of explanation, but to Koushi’s delight, the harder he laughed, the more helpless Daichi became to keep himself under control. It is no less adorable now, a decade later, than it was then.)

“Get up, you dork,” Daichi says, when Koushi bumps against the rock again and winces. He pulls him into his arms, rubbing his hand up and down Koushi’s back.

“Lower,” Koushi says. He wraps his arms around Daichi, and nods against his shoulder when he finds the spot where Koushi will probably be sporting a bruise soon.

“I’m sorry,” Daichi says, still laughing softly, but sounding genuinely remorseful.

Koushi swallows the last giggles that try to rise up, so he can lean back and cup Daichi’s face between his hands. “I’m really not holding it against you,” he tells him. “But Oikawa probably won’t be pleased with either of us.”

Daichi makes a face, looking down at the fully empty shell of the air mattress. “I feel like we can probably blame this on the carpet somehow.”

“Of course we can,” Koushi agrees, leaning in to kiss Daichi’s lips, and then his flushed cheeks. He doesn’t know if that’s from the laughter or the embarrassment of popping the mattress, but it draws him in either way, and he kisses the bridge of his nose, too. “We _will_ have to fix it or replace it though.”

A quick examination of the mattress reveals that fixing it won't be an option. A hole has opened up right along the seam, too large to be patched.

“We could just tell him we had sex on it, and he won’t want it back anyway,” Daichi suggests.

“We should definitely tell him that,” Koushi says. “But probably also replace it.”

“Probably,” Daichi agrees.

They fold Oikawa’s mattress up and set it on the patio, then stand there in indecision, eyeing the cracked linoleum on the other side of the door, and the death-trap carpet beyond it.

“We still have blankets,” Koushi says.

Daichi nods quickly, needing no convincing, and they go back onto the lawn. After kicking away a few stones, they spread out the larger blanket and lie down together, pulling the second one on top of themselves. It’s really just as comfortable as the mattress had been, with the thick, soft grass beneath them, and the lights they left on in the house glowing cheerfully from the windows above them.

“Our house,” Koushi says, nestling closer under Daichi’s arm and smiling when Daichi’s hand comes to rest in his hair, carding through it gently.

“Our monstrosity,” Daichi says, laughing when Koushi kicks him halfheartedly. “We’ll make it beautiful,” he adds. “I know we will.”

Koushi internally maintains that it is already beautiful, but he nods his head and then turns to kiss Daichi’s jaw. “We will,” he says. “If you want to get back on top of me now, there’s nothing for us to break.”

“Except any hope of a good relationship with our neighbors.”

“We could be very, very quiet.”

“ _I_ could be, but you definitely couldn’t.”

“Is that a challenge, Daichi?”

Daichi grins and shakes his head, but he rolls Koushi over again, and this time there’s nothing but the land that belongs to them solid under his back, and Daichi so warm against his chest and his hips, sturdy legs spread on either side of him.

They pull the blanket right over their heads, so at least when Koushi fails miserably, the sounds are muffled. And when their breathing has evened out and they’re side by side again, hands clasped together between them, it’s grown so dark they can’t make out much of the house at all, except the bright windows and the golden haze around them.

“Pretty,” Daichi says sleepily

“That’s what I keep telling you,” Koushi says.

Daichi turns to face him, blinking slowly while a fond, tired smile lifts the corners of his lips. They worked so hard today, and they’ll work even harder tomorrow, and the day after that, peeling away the layers that are masking what Koushi knows is underneath.

“I know,” Daichi says. “If they don’t find an ancient burial ground when they tear out the carpet, I’ll probably be ready to start believing you.”

“I mean…there might be a lot of dead bugs.”

“Unless the rats ate them.”

“Oh my God, Daichi…rats don’t even eat bugs.”

Daichi is smiling widely now, still with those sleepy eyes. He’s far too cute, and Koushi pulls his hand up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“You’re so dumb. Go to sleep.”

“Maybe we should get a cat, instead of a dog.”

“There are _no rats,”_ Koushi says, and Daichi laughs, but his eyes are closed now, his grip loosening on Koushi’s hand. Soon he’s drifting off to sleep, and Koushi is, too, with the cicadas singing and the windows glowing steadily.

When they wake they’re stiff and tired, but buzzing with energy all the same, because there’s so much to do, and every bit of it has a purpose. It’s bringing them closer to having a home that is bright and clean. The kind of place they could see themselves staying in for years.

It’s almost painfully slow-going at times—it seems like everything they do to improve the house causes its own mess—but Koushi has never really been bothered by messes. He’s particularly okay with the mess a week after their camp out, when they’ve finally decided on colors and are painting over each wall with softer, neutral tones that will leave them free to decorate however they choose.

He accidentally flicked paint on Daichi earlier that day while cleaning his brush, and there’s now a perfect smattering of white dots across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, like tiny stars. There are streaks of it on his bare arms too, and really it’s not so much the paint, as it is just Daichi himself that makes this whole thing so much more pleasant than a task like this probably should be.

“You don’t need to dip your brush in so far,” Daichi says, looking over his shoulder at Koushi. “Just the edge is enough.”

Koushi hums his understanding and dips his brush in exactly the way he has been all day, not really paying attention, watching the pull and shift of muscles in Daichi’s back as he reaches up to roll bright white paint along the ceiling.

“That’s the reason it takes you so long to clean it after,” Daichi adds.

“I don’t mind,” Koushi says. Daichi’s shirt is lifting up, with his arms raised. The angles of his hips and the band of his boxer-briefs exposed. “I think painting may be my new favorite pastime, actually.”

Daichi’s eyes find him at that, narrowed in amusement. “You’re not even painting,” he points out, which is quite true. Koushi can’t actually remember if he was about to dip his brush again, or if he was ready to get back to painting the edges of the wall. Currently, he’s just standing here holding the brush and watching Daichi.  

“No,” he says. “But you are.”

Daichi laughs and presses his finger to his roller, and then to the tip of Koushi’s nose. “Is this why you wanted such an ugly house? So you could watch me fixing it?”

“It’s not,” Koushi says. “But if I’d thought about how nice this would be beforehand, I wouldn’t put it past myself.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Daichi says, with an indulgent smile that Koushi can feel on his lips when Daichi leans in and kisses him a moment later. “If we can get this room done tonight, I’ll go pick up that horrible mabo tofu for you for dinner, okay?”

“If I’m working, I can’t be ogling you, Daichi,” Koushi says reasonably.

Daichi tries to look unimpressed, but the skin under the dots of white turns faintly pink. “And daifuko,” he says, upping his offer.

“The strawberry kind? From the little place by—”

“Yes,” Daichi says.

Koushi smiles brightly and re-dips his brush, sticking it in too deep, and then dripping excess paint on the plastic they’ve spread across the floor.

“You’re hopeless,” Daichi says, and Koushi blows him a kiss. Daichi is hopeless, too, and Koushi’s very happy with them being two of a kind.

He does manage to focus enough that by the end of the day the front room is a soft, pale grey, and with this room the entire house has now been repainted.

“Wow,” Daichi says, looking around. “It’s like…”

It’s beautiful. Simple and sparse, but fresh and light and ready to be marked by them, colored by their art, and their lives, and the memories they’ll make.

Daichi is still scanning the room wordlessly, eyes flicking to the kitchen that has been the recipient of every bit of elbow grease Koushi had to offer, and the hallway that no longer looks like an underground passageway, or a sewer, as Daichi so flatteringly put it the first time they saw the house.

It’s beginning to look just like Koushi knew it could, but the loveliness of the space is nothing compared to Daichi’s face as he takes it in, and the smile he gives to Koushi when their eyes meet.

“This is ours,” Daichi says, with a bit of disbelief.

“So you don’t want to light it on fire after all?” Koushi asks.

“Not anymore,” Daichi says with a grin. “It was _really_ ugly though.”

Koushi shakes his head, staunchly holding to his belief that this house has always been everything they could want, and Daichi laughs and wraps him up in a sweaty, paint spattered hug.

When he leaves to pick up dinner, Koushi cleans the brushes and folds up all the plastic, then he wanders slowly around the house, picturing the two of them in every room while he waits for Daichi to return. He sees them making breakfast in front of the little window overlooking the backyard, and snuggled together on the couch that they’ll eventually acquire, with the high ceilings of the front room above them. He sees them in the bathroom, Daichi leaning over the counter to shave, while Koushi works out the knots that inevitably form in his hair each night as he sleeps.

There’s paint in his hair now, and on his nose (thanks to Daichi), and his arms and his clothes. It’s dotted across the backs of his hands, and every spot he finds makes Koushi happy because he loves this ugly house that isn’t ugly anymore, and he’s loved every moment of making it beautiful with Daichi.

He stays where he is when he hears the front door open, smiling when Daichi’s reflection appears behind his own.

“Hey,” Daichi says.

“I love you,” Koushi tells him, and then he gets to watch the soft smile that warms Daichi’s face in the mirror.

Daichi sets the takeout bag on the counter and wraps his arms around Koushi’s waist, kissing his shoulder and his neck, and then brushing his nose through his hair.  

“You paint way too aggressively,” he says. “Your hair’s covered in paint.”

“It’ll come out,” Koushi says, humming happily when Daichi smiles against the back of his neck and kisses it again.

“Want some help?” Daichi asks.

This is not a question that actually needs to be answered. Koushi lives for hot baths, and the only thing that makes them better is having Daichi in there with him.

When their carpets were being replaced, Koushi spent half the day in this bathroom, attacking the old claw foot tub in every possible way, until it was gleaming and bright. He’s almost dancing with anticipation while he waits for it to fill up, and soon enough they’re settling into it together, Koushi’s back to Daichi’s chest, and he quickly decides that this could easily rival the backyard as his favorite part of the house. It’s not that big, but it’s wonderfully deep, and Koushi doesn’t mind at all the way he and Daichi are pressed together, with Daichi’s legs bent on either side of him, his arms resting on the edges of the tub so Koushi can trail his fingers over toned forearms, and golden skin beginning to shine from the heat of the water.

They eat their dinner in the bath, Daichi finishing quickly and working soapy fingers over Koushi’s shoulders while he takes his time with his own meal. When he finishes, Daichi starts to work on his neck, thumbs moving in smooth, firm circles from the top of his spine, up to the sensitive dip just below his hairline.

“God,” Koushi says. It feels so good, and Daichi’s hands are sinfully strong and certain as they move over his skin, and then up into his hair. “ _God,”_ he says again, when Daichi starts to work up a thick lather of shampoo, fingers massaging his scalp.

“You sound like you’re getting off,” Daichi says huskily, his lips brushing the shell of Koushi’s ear.

“I think I am,” Koushi says, closing his eyes and tipping his head back into Daichi’s hands. One of them leaves his hair and cups his shoulder, trailing down his arm until Daichi finds Koushi’s hand, and then guides it between his legs.

“Let me watch,” he says.

Koushi keeps his own eyes closed and runs an open hand over the length of his cock, moaning softly when Daichi starts to circle his fingertips over his scalp again.

“Good,” Daichi says. “Nice and slow.”

Koushi hums and takes himself loosely in hand, stroking lightly from tip to base in lazy movements until he’s fully hard. He feels like he’s in a dream, the very best kind, with the steam from the bathwater making the edges of the room soft. The heat of Daichi’s body against his is almost dizzying, the constant, steady motion of his hands lulling Koushi further into a languid state of bliss.

Daichi’s hands slide out of his hair and help him shift so he can lean his head back on a sturdy shoulder. They drift down to dance along the skin of his chest and stomach after, one of them eventually wrapping around Koushi’s own, moving with it and setting the pace. The other smooths over his chest again, slick fingers circling one nipple and then the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Daichi breathes next to his ear. He’s thumbing his nipple firmly now, helping Koushi quicken his strokes with his other hand, and Koushi wants to say that Daichi is, too, but his tongue is heavy and his head feels light, and he just moans instead. It echoes in the small room, and Daichi responds with a low groan, shifting his hips and pressing against the small of Koushi’s back.

Koushi has always been easy in Daichi’s hands, and with the feel of him hard and hot behind him, with his broad hand closing around Koushi’s, it’s not long before little gasps and cries are spilling out of him, bouncing off the tiles. He opens his eyes just enough to be able to take in a hazy image of their hands moving together over his flushed erection—Daichi’s other hand sliding down to grasp Koushi’s thigh and pull it towards himself, spreading his legs wider—and with that, he tips over the edge. His own hand finds Daichi’s leg and squeezes it as his orgasm washes over him, and Daichi continues stroking him, slowly and steadily, until he’s gone soft, his body limp against Daichi’s chest.

“Kou?” Daichi asks after a minute. “You haven’t passed out, have you?”

“Yes,” Koushi says.

Daichi’s chest shakes behind Koushi with a quiet laugh, and his hands start to move again, kneading Koushi’s shoulders and then drawing wet lines down his arms. “Can you stay up for a few more minutes? On your hands and knees?”

If anyone else asked him to move right now, Koushi would perhaps scrounge up the energy only to raise a single specific finger in their direction, but for Daichi he nods and turns to press a kiss to the sweat damp skin of his chest.

“Of course,” he says before sitting up, letting Daichi help him adjust until his hands are planted firmly on the bottom of the tub, and Daichi is behind him, palms gliding up the length of his back, then slowly down to his hips.

“Keep your knees wide,” Daichi says, gently easing Koushi’s thighs farther apart until his knees are pressed to the sides of the tub. “So you don’t slip.”

Koushi smiles and closes his eyes, breathing in the humid air still rising from the bathwater to warm his face. He’s not worried about slipping, Daichi has him. His hands are holding Koushi’s waist now as he leans into him, the slick heat of his cock pressing against the cleft of Koushi’s ass.

“So pink,” Daichi says, reaching back to run his thumb along the curve of one cheek.  

Koushi suspects his entire body is fairly pink at this point, and Daichi is probably flushed red. He opens his mouth to say something about how cute the other man’s ass must look, but then Daichi starts to move, gripping Koushi’s cheeks and pressing them together as he slides his cock between them.

“I think...your ass is bigger than it used to be,” Daichi says. “In a really good way.”

“Daichi!” Koushi laughs, a little breathlessly in the steamy room.

“I’m just saying! Remember doing this back in high school, when we were afraid to try sticking it in? I couldn't get such a good grip then.”

Koushi lets his head hang down and laughs again. He does, of course, remember this. They spent many evenings, as teenagers, rutting against each other in every way they could think of, before eventually feeling confident enough to try moving inside each other. This was always one of their favorites, though, because it felt so close to where they wanted to go.

“So you’re saying my ass is more satisfying now?” Koushi asks.

Daichi hums and squeezes it again as he grinds against it. “ _Exactly._ It’s…”

Koushi tilts his hips to raise his ass a little higher, pushing back against Daichi’s cock, and Daichi lets out a groan of appreciation.

“It’s perfect,” he says, fingers pressing deeper into the pliant flesh, the thick shaft of his cock sliding past Koushi’s entrance and making him whimper.

If he had a little more energy, if his muscles weren’t already so tired from painting all day, he’d ask Daichi to open him up and fill him with the heat that’s so intoxicating against his skin now. But his arms are already starting to tremble, and this, just the way it is, is—

“Perfect,” Daichi says again. “Koushi…”

Koushi spreads his fingers wide and arches his back more deeply, moaning low in his throat when Daichi moves faster in response. Still controlled, hands still carefully holding Koushi steady, but more desperate now, a little less even, the longer he rocks against him.

“ _Ah..._ I’m... _Koushi—”_

Koushi looks over his shoulder when Daichi leans back from him suddenly, blinking away the moisture clinging to his lashes so he can see Daichi wrapping his hand around his own cock, keeping the other one firmly on Koushi’s hip. Dark eyes squeeze closed and Daichi pinches his lower lip between his teeth as he jerks himself roughly to completion, leaning forward when he comes, so his release falls across Koushi’s back.

“We just washed the paint _off_ ,” Koushi sighs, smiling when Daichi opens his eyes and looks down at him.

“Looks good on you, though,” Daichi says, lightly pinching the swell of Koushi’s ass, then cupping his hands and filling them with water to rinse Koushi’s skin clean. “I couldn’t get it all out of your hair, anyway.”

“It’s still on your nose, too,” Koushi says, turning carefully so he can kneel facing Daichi. His cheeks are red, his wet hair tousled, and Koushi isn’t sure if he’s ever seen him look as gorgeous as he does right now—in their tub, in their bathroom, in their very own house.

The paint just makes him even more beautiful, because they picked it together, and they used it to cover over the purple and the green and the horrible rusty brown this room used to be, and make it into something that feels exactly right for them.

“And yours,” Daichi says, reaching to tap the end of Koushi’s nose.

Koushi grins stupidly, because he’s just so happy, and maybe a little overtired, and especially overcome with love for the man kneeling in front of him. Daichi smiles back, like he always does, and then leans in to kiss Koushi, deep and slow, like he knows exactly what Koushi is feeling, and wants him to know he feels just the same.

They trade kisses until the water turns cool, running hands over wet skin and gently sucking at each other’s lips. Daichi adds more hot water when Koushi starts to shiver, and they use a soapy washcloth to renew their paint removal efforts. Scrubbing gently until it all comes away, except a speckle at the corner of Daichi’s eye, and a little line of three dots on the back of Koushi’s neck that Daichi kisses one by one.

“We can try again tomorrow,” he says, stepping onto the mat next to the tub after they've rinsed off, and holding up a towel for Koushi.

Koushi bypasses the towel and presses against Daichi’s chest instead, sighing happily when Daichi wraps the towel around them both.

“We won’t get dry this way,” Daichi says, ruffling Koushi’s hair and shaking out some of the water.

Koushi clasps his hands behind Daichi’s back, just to make it clear that he has absolutely no intention of moving, and he feels his husband’s little sigh of resignation against his bare shoulder.

“Alright, you,” Daichi says. “Let’s do this in bed though.”

Koushi allows himself to be walked backwards, with Daichi’s arms holding him up and steering him into their bedroom. They lie down in the middle of the futon, chest to chest, and they may be damp still, but the cool air feels so nice on Koushi’s drying skin after the heat of the little bathroom.

“Dai?” he says sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“I was wrong.”

“I doubt that,” Daichi says, adjusting the towel over their hips and then pulling Koushi closer to his chest with a hand on his back.

“I was...about the rats. They do eat bugs sometimes. I looked it up.”

Daichi huffs out a little laugh and kisses Koushi’s forehead. “But we don’t have rats.”

“Maybe...” Koushi says, “that’s why we’ve found so many dead bugs.”

“That’s because no one was living here for three years,” Daichi points out.

Koushi smiles and presses his head under Daichi’s chin. “But now _we_ do,” he says.

“Mhm.”

“You and me,” Koushi adds, the words breaking a little on a yawn.

“Yep...I knew which _we_ you were talking about.”

“I’m being sentimental, Daichi,” Koushi says, pushing his leg in between Daichi’s and feeling as if he has almost achieved a state of optimal comfort.

“I know,” Daichi says. He trails his fingers up Koushi’s back and into his hair, cradling his head in his wide palm. “You and me.”

Koushi hums and lets his eyes close, nodding his head slightly. “And our house.”

“Ours,” Daichi echoes, resting his head against Koushi’s, so Koushi can feel each of his breaths warm on his cheek. Perfection. He’ll be asleep in less than a minute.

He murmurs an _I love you,_ and Daichi echoes him again, and Koushi knows that it doesn’t matter at all where they spend their nights. Whether it’s this room, or the backyard, or anywhere else. It’s not the house, it’s just the joy of sharing their lives together. It’s how much he loves the man wrapped around him, and how loved he knows he is in return.

Their house is lovely, just like Koushi knew it could be, but the real beauty has always been in the person he shares it with.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Essie for reading over this!
> 
> I'm [ellessey-writes](http://ellessey-writes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, and you can find the rest of my AO3 DaiSuga works [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=836528&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&user_id=Ellessey).


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